the Birthday Stockings
by littlegreenlake
Summary: Matt Dillon asks Dottie Bender to do a little fancy work on three pairs of warm wool stockings for Kitty's birthday.
1. Chapter 1

**the**

 **Birthday**

 **Stockings**

without beginning - without end

Gunsmoke fanfiction

littlegreenlake

I

January 1888

Dottie Bender did fancy work. Her embroidery had won her blue ribbons at every sociable and fair in the Dodge City and the Ford County area for over ten years. Dottie, plump, pretty and pleasant, was in her sixties and had raised a family of eight sons. All of her boys were married and running successful farms of their own. She and her husband Harry, after giving up farming life, lived at Ma Smalley's boarding house and were active in community and church life.

Folks often came to Dottie when they had a special needlework request. She'd decorated baby blankets with rosebuds; mourning hankies with black tatted edgings. She'd monogramed towels and pillowcases for newlyweds, in fact just about every life event in the small community had Dottie's mark on it.

So, it was natural, on that cold winter morning, when the Marshal had something he wanted decorated by needle and thread, that he paid a visit to Dottie Bender.

Miss Dottie, eye glasses resting upon her nose, was sitting in the boarding house parlor, next to the window, working with needlepoint in hand, when Ma poked her head in the room. "Marshal Dillon wants to see you, dear." Ma told her boarder and then ushered the lawman in.

When Matt Dillon entered the room, it grew instantly smaller in his presence. Wearing his winter coat, he resembled a stuffed grizzly bear, Miss Dottie had seen once at a circus sideshow. "Good heavens!" She exclaimed in alarm, struggling to her pudgy little feet. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Oh no, nothing like that Ma'am." He took her arm and assisted her back in the rocking chair. When she was settled again, he asked, "I was wondering if you could sew something for me? I'd pay you for it, of course."

She stared up at the looming figure Matt presented, "Marshal, I'm not a seamstress and even if I was, I wouldn't know the first thing about sewing something for a man as big as you."

He smiled a little, "It's not for me. It's for Miss Kitty."

"Miss Kitty?" She noticed then, that he had a brown paper package under his arm, like the kind Mr. Lathrop wrapped parcels in, at the General Store.

He undid the twine holding the package together, to reveal three pairs of ladies stockings.

"Oh my …" Stockings were just slightly removed from underwear, and her little old heart went a flutter at the thought the Marshal had any intents and purposes in that direction.

He handed over the stockings and she examined them. They were white wool and of fine quality. She'd never been asked to do fancy work on stockings, although she knew some folks did like to brighten up the ordinary, with a stitch or two. She looked up at him squinting over her spectacles. "What did you have in mind."

"Something real pretty, I'd leave that up to you. Something, a lady like Miss Russell would appreciate."

Dotty furrowed her brow, as she tried to put together the term lady with a woman of Miss Kitty's reputation. She attempted a smile and spoke with hesitation, "I don't know Marshal, I wouldn't know what to embroider." She had visions of cupids and a bare breasted Greek Goddesses dancing in her brain. A blush crept up her neck to redden her face.

He noticed her reaction and it confused him a little. He smiled and attempted to reassure the old lady, "I'm sure she'd like anything you think is pretty."

Miss Dottie wasn't so sure. She was certain she had little in common with the beautiful and flamboyant owner of the infamous Long Branch Saloon. Dottie liked to embroider violets and lazy daisies, both seemed too countrified to suit a woman in Miss Kitty's worldly profession. However, as the handsome Marshal smiled down upon her, Dottie conceded, it would have to be a strong woman indeed to refuse Matt Dillon when he looked at her like that. Her pale eyelashes fluttered and her dimples showed, "Well, since it's you doing the asking. I'll give it a go."

"Thank you, Miss Dotty. One more thing. This is going to be a special present for Miss Kitty, so if you could, have the stockings ready by her birthday on February 20th." He paused for a moment, reckoning to the uncertainties of his occupation. "If I'm out of town, please see that she gets them."

xoxo

Harry Bender, thin haired, and ruddy faced, was a content little man, who enjoyed his retirement to the fullest. His daily activities, after a boarding house breakfast, usually started with checkers at the general store with gents of a similar age as he. A noon beer with pickled eggs and pretzels, at the Bull's head followed. Then, a hand or two of penny poker with some of the same men he'd played checkers with earlier, either at the Lady Gay or the Long Branch; another beer or two and back to the boarding house.

Miss Dottie, kept busy as well, perusing the latest bonnets at the millinery shop and gazing at the newest gown to hang on the dressmakers dummy in Miss Mary's Dress Store window and at least once a week, a trip to the general store to browse the latest sewing notions. Depending on the day of the week, she had meetings of Ladies Aid Society, Sewing Circle, and the Quilting Club, to occupy her time and talents. Both spouses would pick up news and scuttlebutt as they went about their routines and gleefully share what they'd learned. It was a bit of a game between them, to see who came home with the juiciest gossip.

Dottie told Harry about the Marshal's visit when he came home that afternoon. Mr. and Mrs. Bender sat together in the parlor, drinking an afternoon tea and discussing the comings and goings of the day. Harry disclosed,"I heard Mrs. Will Roniger is in the family way again, and expecting her fifth grandchild to boot." It was a, 'top that if you can' moment.

Dottie gave him a sly smile and he knew he'd been trumped. "Marshal Dillon wants me to do fancy work on stockings for Miss Kitty." She produced the stockings from her sewing bag.

Harry seemed amused, and Dottie thought his reaction inappropriate, She spoke to him in a stern voice, "Not exactly the kind of gift a gentleman gives a lady."

Harry shook his head kindly at his wife, "Mrs. Bender, the Marshal ain't that much of a gentleman and Miss Kitty certainly ain't no lady."

Dottie examined the stocking in her hand, "Everyone says she is, despite her um … line of work."

Harry produced a little flask of whiskey from his pocket and poured some in his tea, and then put a little in Mrs. Bender's tea too. "Well of course they do, she's got money and she contributes to the coffers of the school board and the church. Not to mention, the fact she's buddy buddy with some of the town's most influential citizens, and a member of that there chamber of commerce, she helped organize. But a lady, no ma'am … she ain't no lady, leastwise not in the common sense."

Dottie took a drink of the spiked tea and then motioned for Harry to put a little more whiskey in her cup. "Maybe I should tell the Marshal I won't do the fancy work?"

He poured a generous amount, "He's gonna pay you, ain't he?"

"Yes, he already did." She reached in her pocket and pulled out a fine handful of coins.

Harry's eyebrows popped up, "You ain't given that back! That's more than you got for embroidering Ruby Baskin's tablecloth and them 12 napkins for her daughter's wedding present."

Dottie took another sip and smiled, "Twice as much."

"I think we can do the Christian thing here, and overlook a few sins." He chuckled then.

"What's so funny?" She asked.

"Him, getting fancy socks for a 'fancy' lady."

She giggled too. "I'm just glad he didn't ask me to stitch rosebuds on her bloomers."

to be continued


	2. Chapter 2

2

Every Wednesday at 9:00 A.M., Mrs. Bender would waddled over to Miss Pry's house for Bible study and to work on the Ladies Aid quilt, which would be raffled off at the Spring Church Social. The Bible study was always brief, and the discussion of the chosen verse usually lead to a gossip session involving those members of the group, not in attendance.

The aroma of coffee brewing and fresh baked apple pie permeated the austere home. A quilting frame had been set up in Miss Pry's parlor, and there were six of Dodge City's most respected ladies gathered around the wooden contraption. Dottie, took her place on one of Miss Pry's sturdy kitchen chairs, which had been moved to the parlor for the occasion.

The pastor's wife, Mrs. Reverend Martin, was the former Edna Pry, twin sister to Edsel Pry. Although, her physical features resembled her sibling, Edna was quiet and pious, as befit a woman in her position. After calling the meeting to order, the good woman, offered a brief prayer, that their work would glorify the Lord and then read the Bible verse, which had been predetermined by the Reverend. As kind of a soul, as was his wife, the pastor, nevertheless, was not naive, and had a good idea what went on at the weekly gatherings.

Mrs. Reverend Martin cleared her voice, "A reading from, St Paul's letter to the _Ephesians, chapter 4, verse 29, 'Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers.'"_

The Reverend's hope was, a discussion would follow on the evils of gossip, however, talk soon centered on those, who, the ladies present, considered the worst offenders and the type of gossip they preferred to spread. Each quilter, as she sewed, offered a variation of the theme, which was in exact opposition to the gospel of the day. When this line of thought had been exhausted, and the conversation had hit a lull; Dottie Bender felt compelled to liven things up.

She took a deep breath, which puffed her chest out, "Marshal Dillon came by to see me the other day."

Needles and threads stopped in mid-air and eyes and ears turned in the direction of Mrs. Bender. "You don't say!" Miss Pry said, trying her best to sound detached and only remotely interested.

"Whatever did he want of you?" Mrs. Molly Halligan asked.

"You been breaking the law, Miss Dottie?" Mrs. Lathrop inquired and the ladies giggled, albeit nervously.

"Pshaw, of course not. He wanted me to do some fancy work, for a present he wants to give to Miss Kitty."

"You don't say!" Miss Pry repeated, but now, looked up from her work. Her sharp eyes stared at Mrs. Bender.

"Well, what did he want you to sew for her?" Mrs. Taylor demanded politely. Her delicate mind trying to conceive, a virile man like Marshall Dillon, requesting any kind of garment be sewn for the resplendent Kitty Russell.

"Stockings!" Dottie gave a pregnant pause, in order to allow the other women time to absorb the information. "He wants me to _embroider_ stockings for her!"

"Well my goodness! That's mighty personal, don't know that I would even want my Jimmy thinking about having my stockings embroidered, and we've been married near 25 years!" Mrs. Taylor declared. "He's not even allowed in my stocking drawer!"

Molly Halligan, lowered her voice, which didn't hide the sense of naughty excitement she was feeling, "Heaven's sake! Lord only knows what goes on between those two when they're alone, but if you've ever seen the way they look at each other, when they think no one else is looking, well, it's enough to make a good woman blush." She picked up an unused quilting square and began fanning herself with the remnant.

Mrs. Lathrop leaned an elbow on the frame resting her chin on the knuckles of her hand. She sighed. Over the years, she'd had a few daydreams about Dodge City's long arm of the law.

"You're tilting the frame, Irene." Miss Pry scolded, "and why in heaven's name, do you have that addlepated look on your face."

Irene Lathrop sat up straight, "Oh, I was just thinking, it's kind of sweet that Matt Dillon is so concerned with Miss Kitty's stockings. Imagine him worrying about her feet." She looked over her wire rims, at the other ladies and soon most of their faces shared the same wistful expression.

Edsel's countenance held it's usual dour scowl, "It's positively indecent, if you ask me! In my day, a gentleman would never acknowledge, there was anything beneath a lady's skirt."

Mrs. Reverend Martin spoke with a scolding voice to her twin, "Sister!"

"Well it's the truth." Miss Pry said.

The twins glared at one another. Molly Halligan, trying to relieve some of the tension said, "Heard the Marshal was called out of town yesterday, someplace in Texas or Mexico, it will be a while before he's back."

The Reverend's wife nodded, "Those border towns can be mighty dangerous, no law to speak of, down there."

"It must be hard on Miss Kitty, having him leave like that. Makes me mindful of back in '62, when I saw Mr. Halligan off to war, with the Illinois 7th Infantry." She wiped a tear and her nose, with the quilt remnant she still held in her hand.

"Oh my, I recall those days, too. Didn't know if I'd ever see Mr. Lathrop again. We were just married and I was expecting my first. Hardest day of my life, watching him march off to war."

Mrs. Taylor voiced the positive, "Mighty fortunate for all of us, our men came back."

Mrs. Reverend Martin glanced at her sister, the usual stiff back and rigid posture of Edsel Pry had slumped a bit; not so much, that just anyone would notice. Edna did, and she wanted to reach out to her twin, but knew the pride of Edsel would never allow any show of weakness. Instead, Edna spoke to the assemblage, "Yes, we must be grateful for those who returned, and remember in our prayers those, whose loved ones did not."

"Sure hope the Marshal will be okay; hope he's not gone too long." Mrs. Taylor murmured.

"The stockings are for Miss Kitty's birthday." Dottie revealed in a somber voice. "He said, if he's been called out of town, I should make sure she gets them on February 20th, that's her birthday."

Miss Pry looked up again, the edge of confident superiority had returned to her demeanor, "Did he happen to mention which birthday it is, dear?"

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

3

Dottie Bender's short, plump frame scurried along side the long legged Molly Halligan, as they made their way down the boardwalk to Edsel Pry's house, the following Wednesday. Molly carried a red gingham covered basket. The warm contents of which, emitted both steam and mouthwatering aroma, into the chilly winter air. "It's my turn to bring the refreshment, I made cinnamon buns," Molly explained. "They won't be as fine as one of Miss Pry's pies, or at least, in her eyes they won't, but still, they're mighty flavorsome, even if I do say so myself."

Dottie had tasted Mrs. Halligan's sweet rolls in the past, they were as heavy as a Chinese laundry sad iron, and sat like a lump of raw clay in the pit of the belly. Still, the old lady had no wish to offend Molly. "They smell … real good." She huffed, breathless from the exertion of trying to keep pace.

xoxo

Everyone else was in their places when the pair arrived. "Took your time in getting here." Miss Pry reprimanded, her nose decidedly out of joint. "We were preparing to proceed without you."

The old grandfather clock, standing in the corner of the parlor, struck nine. "We are not late, Miss Pry. We are exactly on time. No need to get yourself all stirred up." Dottie said. She leisurely removed her gloves and draped her coat over the back of the chair. A high crowned hat, trimmed with purple ostrich feathers, remained, positioned securely upon her head.

"One should arrive before the appointed time, in consideration of others in attendance. It's just common courtesy, Mrs. Bender, everyone knows that!"

Mrs. Reverend Martin raised the flat of her hand in the air and gave her twin a glare. "Let us pray." Unintentionally, the words came out with the force of a drill sergeant ordering around the new recruits. The group rose to their feet as one, and stood at attention, with hands folded and eyes closed. The Bible lesson followed the prayer. The meditation was based on the Gospel of John, Christ's first miracle; turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana.

Mrs. Taylor adjusted her spectacles and aimed thread, at the eye of her needle, "Weddings must have been fancier affairs back then." She remarked.

"Why do you say that?" Mrs. Reverend Martin asked kindly, hoping some meaningful discussion had commenced.

"Well, for one thing, having wine enough for everyone to drink; why, the last wedding I was at they just passed the jug around!" Mrs. Taylor replied, before handing her needle and thread to Irene Lathrop, who had stronger eye glasses.

Amid snickers and giggles, the discussion continued, unfortunately, not on the miracle or the events it foretold, but on the numerous Dodge City weddings which had taken place in recent years and the early babies they had produced.

Dottie waited until the conversation waned, to open up her handbag and pull out the first pair of completed stockings. She held them high in the air and everyone stopped what they were doing to admire the sight. She'd chosen an elaborate red-work pattern in crewel embroidery. The stockings were passed from hand to hand, around the quilting frame, and admired for the lovely floral details.

"Do you think they are flashy enough for a woman in Miss Kitty's line of work?" Dottie inquired.

"They are lovely." Edna, the Reverend's wife stated, as she studied the exact precision of every stitch. "Just right for lady like Miss Russell. I'm sure she will be most pleased."

"Indeed!" Edsel Pry scoffed, "just right for a _saloon gal,_ who wants to draw attention to her lower limbs."

"Sister, that's enough!" Edna warned, she looked not only at her twin, but at all the ladies. "As Christians, we are called upon _to fear and love God that we may not deceitfully belie, betray, slander, nor defame our neighbor, but defend him, speak well of him, and put the best construction on everything_."

"Humpf." Edsel replied. The pure and kind heart of her sibling was a constant thorn in her side.

When the stockings reached Mrs. Jimmy Taylor's hands, she commented, with much admiration, "It'd be like wearing Ruby Baskin's daughter's tablecloth on your legs."

As each one of the ladies examined the fancywork, she secretly wondered about her own plain stockings, and made plans to rectify the situation as soon as possible. Each lady, except Miss Edsel Pry, for she could see no sense in the task. It had been twenty-five years, since she'd given thought to doing something so frivolously impractical; twenty-five years since frivolity mattered. At that moment, right then and there, a dear, but ghostly vision, danced before her mind's eye. The youthful specter of a handsome Union officer smiled back at her, with such tenderly blatant love, that her breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a beat.

"How many years has it been." Mrs. Taylor asked out of the blue.

Miss Pry blinked hard and the apparition vanished. "Since what?" Her voice held a peculiar tremor.

"Since Miss Kitty came to Dodge?"

A sudden chill sent a shiver up Edsel Pry's spine; the tone of her words came out cold, "I don't know! I don't concern myself with the comings and goings of people like that."

Molly Halligan spoke up, "It's been nearly twenty years. She came to town shortly after I did. I recall, a lot of good upstanding folk were trying to get our new young Marshal married off to their daughters and turn him into a farmer or rancher. With his size, he would have been worth two or three extra farm hands. As I recall, Matt Dillon didn't have much time for them, except maybe young Susan Barts. I believe, he was sweet on her for a spell. That all changed once Kitty Russell came to town."

"I wonder why, they never got married." Irene Lathrop mused, for she was the romantic of the group. Working along side her husband, at the General Store, for many years, she had seen more of Matt Dillon and Miss Kitty, than most folks. She couldn't help but ponder on the affairs of Dodge City's most eligible couple.

Miss Pry, back to her normal self, rolled her eyeballs and heaved a sigh, "Why buy the cow, when you get the cream for free?"

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

4

Harvey Bender, having procrastinated for several weeks, had finally, after much prodding from Mrs. Bender, gone to see Doc Adams. His left cheek was swollen, and a throbbing ache radiated from his temple to his shoulder. A simple extraction of an infected molar, along with a packet of sulfa powder, had been the prescribed cure. Dr. Adams had offered him Laudanum for the expected pain, but Harvey declined, for he'd heard too many horror stories regarding the evils of the narcotic.

The old farmer, had been up most of that night, still recovering from the discomfort of the pulled tooth. It had been a long night for Dottie as well, for it had been her chore to chip away at Mrs. Smalley's precious block of ice to keep the bag he held against his cheek, cool.

A weary Dottie, determined not to provoke the wrath of Miss Pry again, had been ready very early the next morning. Her coat rested on the back of a kitchen chair, on the seat were her gloves and handbag. Pinned securely to her gray hair was a fashionable bonnet decorated with black and green crepe roses. However, concern about Harvey kept her from leaving. Mr. Bender, sat at Ma's kitchen table, the ice bag still pressed to his cheek. His eyes were red and rheumy, from lack of sleep and pain, and every so often a moan escaped his clenched jaw.

Dottie studied him for a moment. Guilt weighed heavy at the thought of abandoning him in such a miserable state. "I hate to leave you like this."

"You go on ahead Dottie, I'm taking good care of him." Ma boasted. "I've been dosing him with my herb tea. Cures most any painful ailment. Helps with my lumbago, doncha know. We're on our second pot, aren't we Mr. Bender."

Harvey groaned a reply and pointed to his cup for a refill.

Dottie voiced alarm, "Oh, I don't know if he can have tea … Doc said he shouldn't have hot liquids for a day or so."

"Tea don't have to be hot Mrs. Bender, just potent. I made it strong so I can water it down some to cool it off for him." She poured more tea in his cup, "Here you go Mr. Bender, you drink this down and right soon you'll find yourself feeling much better, I guarantee it. It'll change your whole outlook on things."

Ma had done such a good job selling the remedy, that Dottie coveted a cup of tea for her own consumption. "With this cold spell, my lumbago's been acting up a might too, you suppose I could try some?"

"Certainly, Dottie, but, I'm only going to give you half a cup to start, since you have your meeting to go to, and all."

Still with time to spare, Dottie took the chair next to Harvey. Ma sat down with them. The teapot was in the middle of the table for all to reach.

"How are those stockings for Miss Kitty coming along?" Mrs. Smalley asked, as they settled in their places.

"I finished the second pair last night." Dottie reached over to her handbag, and fished out her latest accomplishment. "I was bringing them to show to the ladies today. They've taken quite an interest in my project."

"My oh my, aren't they pretty, and so practical too!" Ma exclaimed, as Dottie held the stockings out for her to see. "I might have to ask you to stitch up a pair for me."

"I'd be happy to, just as soon as I finish the last pair for the Marshal's order. Do you think Miss Russell will approve?"

"Lands sake! Kitty will love them! She'll be especially tickled by the fact the Marshal went to the trouble of coming up with such a welcomed idea. He don't always, you know. I recall a time or two he completely forgot about her birthday or some special occasion she'd been planning on attending. Worse yet, was those times she'd planned a party and he was called away before the celebration could even begin."

Dottie sipped the tea, the taste was unusual, but not disagreeable, rather soothing, in fact. "It sounds like you know Miss Russell pretty well."

"I ought to. I'm proud to say I've been her friend near twenty years! We worked side by side together during the last flu epidemic, when Doc set up that there, infirmary, at the Long Branch." Ma smiled for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "R'member when the Roniger triplets came to town, their mama died, Doc was left with those three orphaned newborns? Who was the first person who came to help? It was Kitty Russell. She was there takin' care of them, feeding them, burping them, changing their nappies — she's mighty good with babies, don't know for sure how she learned, but she's got a real knack. She's always doing good deeds like that, 'course few folks hear about it, she's not one to brag; but she's helped many a family who were down and out. I'd say, she's got about the kindest heart in Dodge City. Of course, most people like to point fingers and concentrate on other aspects of her life."

Dottie frowned, "Hard to ignore what she does for a living and where the money comes from, that she donates to the church and school. Another thing Ma Smalley, you know as well as I do, the Marshal spends more nights in her bed, when he's in town than he does at the jailhouse, now that ain't right. It's sinful! Don't care how many good deeds you do to wash away your sins … a stain like that is gonna stay."

Ma still had that smile on her face, like she hadn't even heard what Dottie was saying. "Kitty told me, right here at this table, way back, when she first came to town, she wasn't planning on staying, just got off the stage to stretch her legs a might. Well, she wandered over to Delmonico's for a bite to eat, and that's when she first laid eyes on Matt Dillon. That's all it took, just seeing him, for her to know he was the only man on earth for her. She knew right then and there, she wasn't goin' nowhere. How many folks can say that? Don't know that I ever felt that way with Mr. Smalley. Oh, we got along, but there was never something so strong, like that."

Harvey's eyes were closed and his head was resting awkwardly on the pressed-back chair. He was finally asleep, although most likely he'd have a crink in his neck when he woke up. "It took three years for me to feel that way about Harvey and we'd already been married two years by the time I did." Dottie admitted.

Ma nodded. "Kitty lived here at the boarding house with me for a spell. It was right after she bought interest in the Long Branch from Bill Pence. She thought it best to kinda distance herself from the gals who did … well … how can I put this …?" She poured a little more tea in her cup and then in Dottie's too.

"You happen to have anything to eat with this Ma?" Dottie interrupted.

Ma went to the cupboard and produced a plate of oatmeal and prune cookies. "Here you go."

Dottie took a bite and then, "You were saying Ma, about Miss Kitty coming here to live …"

Mrs. Smalley continued, "Yes, she didn't want folks to think she sold more than whiskey and beer, if you catch what I'm sayin'. That's when I found out she was a born lady, she was raised up proper-like, her Mother was a good church going woman and made sure she went to a fancy seminary school for young ladies. Everything changed when her mother died. She was on her own, no money to speak of, no family that she could count on. She had to fend for herself the best way she could."

"Seems a pretty girl like that could have found herself a husband instead of becoming a saloon gal."

"Times was tough after the war, especially in the South." Ma's smile didn't waiver. "Kitty Russell's no ordinary soul, she wasn't going to let herself be saddled down by just any man."

"But, you said she went to a finishing school, she'd a been more than qualified to become a teacher or a number of respectable occupations, until the right man come along …" Dottie shook her head in a disapproving fashion, "working in a saloon … and you know as well as I do, back in those early days, she weren't no better than any of the other gals working the Long Branch."

Ma reached over and gave Dottie's hand a quick pat, "I don't say she always made the best of choices, truth, loving a man with a badge might be one of her worst." Ma giggled, shoved a cookie in her mouth, crumbs rimmed her lips, she giggled again, and said, despite a full mouth, "then again, the man is Matt Dillon … maybe it was her best."

Dottie Bender giggled too, as if this statement was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. Her fatigue and lumbago forgotten, she felt delightful, joyful; filled with a satisfying euphoric peace. She glanced at her husband, he opened his eyes and responded to her look, with a lopsided grin. Dottie took the last sip of her tea. She had tasted all manner of herbal teas; chamomile, lavender, ginger root, peppermint and more, but none had rewarded her with the taste and overall feeling of well-being she was savoring now. "What kind of herb did you say this tea was made from, Ma?"

"Hemp, it's hemp tea, Dottie dear. I grow it on my window sill."

to be continued ...


	5. Chapter 5

5

"How are you feeling, Harvey?" Dottie asked.

"Hungry." He responded.

"I'll scramble some eggs for you, Mr. Bender." Ma volunteered.

Dottie was just about to say, she'd have some eggs too, when the kitchen wall clock cuckooed nine.

"Land's sake! I'm late!"She exclaimed.

Ma put a hand on her shoulder to hold her in place, "Forget about the meeting today, Dottie dear. Stay home with us, and we'll drink more tea and eat scrambled eggs and cookies."

It should be pointed out here, that Mrs. Bender had not consumed as much of the herb tea as had Harvey and Mrs. Smalley, and while she was feeling well and at peace with her environment, she had not reached the same level of elevation as had they.

To most folks the distance from the boarding house to Miss Pry's home could be accomplished in ten minutes or less. Dottie, slightly arthritic, of ample girth and wearing shoes one size too small, was a different story. "If, I walk fast myself, I can get there in 15 minutes … I'll miss the Bible study, but still be in time to show off my stockings and partake in the refreshments." She quickly poured herself another cup of tea, (well cooled by this time) and swallowed it in three gulps. "Fortification!" She explained, shrugging into her coat and pulling on her gloves.

She began walking out of the room and then stopped dead in her tracks, throwing her arms, handbag and all in the air. "Good Lord!"

"Now what?" Ma asked.

Dottie Bender, turned around, as if in slow motion and the room seemed to spin with her, "I was supposed to bring something for the coffee hour."

Ma surveyed her kitchen, eyes alighting on the plate of oatmeal prune cookies! "I've got just the thing!" She went to the cupboard and brought forth her heavy old salt-glazed cookie jar and then moved to the drawer where she kept toweling and such. "Here you go, this is one of my special recipe batches." She emptied the jar into a freshly laundered flower sack.

AS SHE plodded down the street, her face beamed with a most pleasant smile. She greeted all she met along the boardwalk with a, "Good morning, have a happy day", salutation. In the blink of an eye, she was halfway there. She started humming a hymn, that had recently become popular. By the time she reached Miss Pry's house she was fairly belting out the lyrics. To her ears, she had never sounded so good!

 _Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness,_

 _Sowing in the noontide and the dewy eve;_

 _Waiting for the harvest, and the time of reaping,_

 _We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves._

 _Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,_

 _We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves,_

 _Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,_

 _We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves._

 _Sowing in the sunshine, sowing in the shadows,_

 _Fearing neither clouds nor winter's chilling breeze;_

 _By and by the harvest, and the labor ended,_

 _We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves._

She was robustly vocalizing the refrain, as she opened Miss Pry's front door, without benefit of knocking first.

The ladies, whose heads had been bowed in prayer, looked up in unison. Eyes opened wide, brows raised and mouths shaped in a big fat "O". It took a heartbeat for their voices to ring out in chorus, "Dottie Bender!" and then each member, in prearranged fashion, stuck out a leg, featuring a colorfully embroidered stocking. Everyone that is, except twin sisters, Edna Martin and Edsel Pry. For Edna, as the ministers wife, did not feel it appropriate to her position in the community, and Edsel, thought the whole idea was ridiculous.

Dottie laughed with delight, at what she had inspired, "I guess I ought to get busy on my own socks if I want to stay in fashion. Land's sake, look at all of those pretty stockings. Did, you all, do that fancy work yourselves?"

The ladies each replied that they had, and waited for Dottie to walk around the quilting frame to admire their handiwork. Then, with the cookie bag tucked under her arm she pulled Miss Kitty's stockings from her reticule and handed them to Mrs. Taylor, to be passed around the group and admired. These stockings, were again a floral pattern, but done in soft earthy tones and exquisitely crafted by the gifted Dottie Bender.

When the stockings reached Edsel Pry, she didn't even bother to look at them, but, handed them back to Dottie Bender and said in a harsh tone, "You're tardy!"

"Yes I am, darling Miss Pry, but I'm here and God is in his heaven and all is well with the world." She raised the flour sack, "I've brought cookies!" She announced, her voice nearly giddy with glee.

Miss Pry's scowl deepened. She wagged a rheumatic finger at Dottie, "Why are you late, and pray tell, why are you acting in such an idiotic manner?"

Miss Pry's cranky behavior bothered Dottie, not! "Poor Harvey, he had a tooth pulled yesterday. I stayed, to make sure he was feeling well enough, for me to leave."

Mrs. Reverend Martin showed concern, "That can be very painful. How is he feeling?"

"He wouldn't take the laudanum Doc offered, but Ma Smalley, gave him the most marvelous remedy to drink."

Irene Lathrop cocked her head, "Was it her herbal tea?" She asked innocently.

Mrs. Taylor nodded her head, for she too, had been dosed in the past, by Ma's hemp, "Dottie, did Ma make tea for your husband?"

Dottie's smile expanded, "Yes!" With the cookie sack and handbag secured under one arm, she bent over to examine the quilt on the frame, as if seeing it for the first time. Touching the pieced fabrics with her free hand, she exclaimed, "I never realized how magnificent these colors are, this is the most beautiful quilt in the world!" A sudden inspiration hit her. "We should form a parade and march up and down the streets of Dodge waving it as a banner."

Molly Halligan, wiped the sudden grin off her face with a lace trimmed hanky, "You had some tea too, didn't you Dottie dear?"

"I did! I'm surprised I didn't know of this miraculous elixir before, I declare, if we all drank Mrs. Smalley's tea there'd be no need for Doc Adams. I must bring some to the next meeting."

Mrs. Jimmy Taylor, stood and pulled out the chair next to her, for Dottie, "Here, you go, have a seat, we were just about to discuss today's Bible verse."

Dottie plopped herself down,"Oh! Before we do, let me pass around the cookie sack. They are oatmeal prune. Take two or three, as many as you want, they're delicious."

So, more to humor Dottie than anything else, the ladies each took several cookies and spent the next fifteen minutes or so, discussing the merits of the treat.

"It is hard to stop at just one." the ever critical Edsel Pry declared, as she bit into her fourth cookie.

Molly Halligan agreed, "Now if we just had some of Ma's tea, we'd be all having a gay old time." With that pronouncement the ladies chuckled a little at the image they might present, should they all, be affected by Ma's strange and magical potion, the way dear Dottie was.

"Tasty." Was the general consensus.

"But unusual …" Mrs. Halligan observed and several of the ladies offered opinions as to what the ingredients, other than the obvious, might be.

"They are certainly beneficial to your health. We all know the advantages of prunes in keeping the body regular." Miss Pry said, and then she did something completely out of character. She got the giggles. In fact, she laughed so hard, that she passed gas. Not a soft little toot, but rather, one of the blow horn variety.

"Oh!" Miss Pry exclaimed, not as embarrassed, as she would normally be, for a true lady went to great efforts to suppress flatulence in the company of others. Still laughing, Miss Pry brought her hand to her mouth, to cover an unladylike snort.

"This too shall pass." Quoted Dottie Bender, and then the whole group erupted in uncontrolled glee-filled chortling, each one, fueling the giggles of the other. Great spasms of laughter racked the church ladies. They clutched their bellies, crossed their legs to keep from peeing their bloomers, and laughed so hard that tears rolled down their faces. It is entirely possible Miss Pry wasn't the only one who had let fumes fly, for the room was fragranced by the odiferous smell.

"Sister! Ladies, let us remember why we are here today." It was going on 10:30 by this time, and they hadn't gotten past their opening prayer. At this rate, there would be no quilting accomplished at the meeting. Mrs. Reverend Martin, attempted to reel the ladies back to the Bible verse of the day, "Mrs. Bender, before you arrived, we were getting ready to discuss, 1 Corinthians 13, 'And now abide these three, Faith, Hope and Love, but the greatest of these is Love.'" She looked at the ladies still red faced and smiling, from their spontaneous explosion of mirth, and heaved a small sigh. The Reverend had given her strict orders to get some manner of meaningful dialogue going — that didn't involve gossip of the town's more prominent citizens. "Let's examine the definitions of faith, hope and love, one at a time. What does faith mean to you?"

Miss Pry, in an attempt to retrieve her dignity, stated, with a hint of fire and brimstone in her voice, "Believing in the Word."

"Trust." Said Irene Lathrop, in a kinder voice.

"Blind trust." Added Molly Halligan, before taking another cookie from the sack, as it was being passed around again.

The pastor's wife nodded, and gave an inward smile, they were actually staying on task, "As the risen Christ, told doubting Thomas, 'Blessed are they who have not seen and yet believe'. That truly is the faith we are asked to have." Edna Martin, went on, "Hope. Such a beautiful word. In the context of this verse, what do you believe Paul is telling us?"

Miss Pry's nose rose, "The Old Testament, Hebrews I believe, says, 'Hope is an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast'."

Mrs. Jimmie Taylor was suddenly inspired to sing out, in a decidedly faulty soprano, "My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus Blood and Righteousness." Several of the women enthusiastically joined in, to finish off the hymn.

Inspired by her fellow church ladies, Dottie stood and declared, with cookie raised in salute, "Hope is what keeps you moving on."

"Makes you look forward to tomorrow." Irene Lathrop affirmed with a smile. "Live in hope! That's my motto."

Mrs Taylor added, "Hope lets you believe you'll see again them you've loved and lost."

Mrs. Lathrop's smile disappeared, "Heaven! I long to see my Ma again, and of course my Papa too."

Mrs. Taylor, eyes suddenly misty, "… my little brother, Ben, he was a soldier, only sixteen, too young to go off to war, and we told him so, but he went anyway — lost at the Battle of Antietam."

With a hiccupped sob, Molly Halligan revealed, "… my sweet wee baby boy, didn't live long enough to know my smile, but I gotta believe he knew my love." Her voice broke, and a full sob escaped her lips, before she was able to continue, " _A flower that scarce had wake to life. And light and beauty ere it died,_ _God in his wisdom hath recalled."_

Dottie, now trapped in the melancholy reflections, sniffled wetly and revealed, "I lost a boy too, Ralphie., he was ten, stepped on a rusty nail. Lands sake, what a jubilee it will be to hold him again, see those freckles that dance across his nose and that cheeky, crooked-tooth grin of his."

There wasn't a dry eye in the house, save for those on the face of one woman. The circle of remembrances stopped at Edsel Pry, everyone waited, with bated breath, to hear who Miss Pry, was living in hope to see again in eternity. Miss Pry's face was downcast and it seemed she would have nothing to add. But then, she looked up and her gaze locked on the corner curio cabinet, where an old photo was propped up against a figurine of an angel. Under most circumstances, Miss Pry would not have acknowledged there was anyone who mattered enough to be missed. She'd always fancied herself above that brand of weakness, or at least strong enough to make it a good show, that she was. Yet today, for some unknown reason, she felt a undeniable compunction to shed a layer of her personal armor, "My … friend, Captain Geoffrey Bowman, lost at the Battle of Bull Run."

Mrs. Reverend Martin stared at Edsel, with her mouth open. In all these years, her twin had never spoken of the man she was to have married, had the war not come. A part of Edsel's soul had been lost the day, they had received notice that Captain Bowman had died on the battlefield. Edna spoke carefully, as one might, in offering comfort to a young child. She reminded her twin, "He was good man Sister, and he loved you dearly."

"Yes, he was." Miss Pry whispered. She got up from her place at the quilting frame and walked with heavy steps, to the cabinet, opened the spotless glass door and removed the photograph. She stared at it for a moment. Her forefinger lightly stroked the image. Then, head held high, she walked back to the group and handed the picture to Mrs. Lathrop, who studied the dashing young officer's countenance. She offered in condolence, "Oh. Miss Pry, I'm so sorry." She passed the photo on to Mrs. Halligan.

"He had nice eyes." Molly noted.

"… a kind smile, my he was a handsome young man." Mrs. Taylor remarked.

When the curio card came to Dottie, she looked at the photo and turned it over. Written on the backside, in masculine hand, she saw these words,

 _"My dearest love, time and distance cannot change what is in the heart, for a loving heart will always remember, and rejoice in the memory."_

Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment at having read such an intimate sentiment. Biting her lip, Dottie handed the photo back to Miss Pry and in that moment, when their eyes met, it was with absolute clarity to the other's soul. The bulwark, so carefully guarded had been brought down, and the truth of Miss Pry revealed.

Edna Martin smiled as if witness to a miracle, for surely, this was this the Holy Spirit at work. In the absolute quiet of the room, her voice rang out with the truth each woman there knew, "But the greatest of these is Love …"

tbc

Author's note - Apparently, it takes about 45 minutes for edible marijuana to take affect, for the purpose of our story, and keeping in mind that Ma must have been a awesome cook and her hemp plants of the best variety, the author has sped up the process. ;-).


	6. Chapter 6

6

It was well past two in the afternoon, by the time the ladies left Miss Pry's house. The situation had deteriorated to the point, where Mrs. Reverend Martin had to call in reinforcements to assist in getting the women home.

They were, by this time, glassy eyed and unable to form complete sentences or respond intelligently to the simplest of commands. Edna Martin was truly concerned. The pastor's wife was a sensible woman, and had swiftly determined, that whatever ingredient constituted Ma's magical tea, was also used in the making of the cookies. The church ladies were under the influence.

Afraid to leave them alone, she had stood on her sister's front porch steps and hailed down Percy Crump, who was returning from Prairie Grove Cemetery, with an empty hearse.

"Mr. Crump, could you please assist me." She called out.

Percival Crump, good citizen of Dodge and astute businessman, well aware that most everyone, sooner or later, would end up employing his services, heeded the call. He pulled the fancy glassed wagon, with the matched team of black plumed horses, to a halt, climbed down from the carriage seat and answered the Reverend Mrs. Martin's plea for help.

Five loopy ladies, were snuggly loaded in the back of the hearse and delivered one by one to their homes. It was a sight to behold and one that was talked about for many years to come.

The following day, Dr. Adams paid a visit to each of the ladies affected by the laced cookies, to see if there were any lasting complications from their experience. Finding each was apparently no worse for wear, other than freely moving bowels and excess air, he instructed them to be more careful in the future about what they consumed.

He was more direct in his conversation with Ma Smalley. "We've talked about this before Ma." He said. "While I agree, there are significant benefits to hemp; it is too strong of an herb to be given without the user being fully aware of the possible side affects." He continued, "The occasional cup of hemp tea is fine, but using it in your cookies and then giving them to Mrs. Bender to share with the church ladies was nothing short of irresponsible. There could have been serious repercussions."

A weeping and repentant Mrs. Smalley, admitted her judgement had been impaired by the tea. "I wasn't thinking right. That's why I gave Mrs. Bender the cookies. I'm so sorry, Doc." She said between sobs, "I promise, I will never make another hemp cookie, as long as I live. I've learned my lesson." In the years which followed, it was a vow she mostly kept.

The group, which met at Miss Pry's the next Wednesday, was subdued. The ladies each apologized in soft voices, for their behaviors and were graciously assured, in equally hushed tone, that no one had any memories of their various indiscretions. Of course that wasn't entirely true, but they were kind enough not to want to embarrass each other any more than they already had. So, they sheepishly carried on as though the previous week had not happened.

After the opening prayer, Mrs. Reverend Martin read a verse from the book of Ruth; ' _And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.'_

Miss Pry commented, "A widow, yet Ruth was unselfish in her devotion to her Mother-in-Law."

"That was the verse the pastor read at my wedding, twenty-two years ago." Irene Lathrop recalled.

"Mine too." Said Mrs. Jimmy Taylor.

"I never knew Ruth was talking about her mother-in-law, I couldn't get away fast enough from mine." Said Molly Halligan, and several heads nodded in agreement.

The discussion went downhill after that, centering on the misconduct of spousal mothers and not on the love the verse invoked. It was in fact Edna Martin, who in a desperate attempt to initiate a diversion in conversation, asked Dottie Bender if she had brought the third pair of Miss Kitty's birthday stockings.

Almost reluctantly, Dottie brought forth the last set of stockings. This pair was fancier than the rest with an area to the front, cut out and delicate lace, from an old table cloth Ma had been scrapping, sewn in place of the cutout. The new technique earned restrained admiration from the group.

"She left town, did you hear?" Mrs. Lathrop announced, out of the blue.

Who?" Miss Pry questioned, her brow furrowed, presumably in annoyance.

Irene Lathrop responded, "Miss Kitty. She took the 10:00 AM train yesterday morning. Talk is, she sold the saloon and she's not planning on coming back."

"Well, she's done that before. She always comes back after a spell." Molly said.

"She's never sold the saloon before." Mrs. Lathrop countered. "New owner is supposed to be coming in today."

"I wonder if he'll go after her." Mrs. Taylor mused. "' _Whither thou goest_ ', and all that …"

"I recall he's gone after her, a time or two." Miss Pry commented.

"Now, that proves he loves her, doesn't it?" Molly declared. " _Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee._ "

"Just think, he don't even know she's left; he'll come back to Dodge to find her gone." Irene said.

"Now, that's kinda sad if you ask me." Said Mrs. Taylor, her eyes misting at the thought of poor old Marshal Dillon without Miss Russell.

Mrs. Reverend Martin, who usually stayed out of the Matt and Kitty conversations, posed the question, "What do you suppose he'll do with Mrs. Bender's stockings, now."

"Don't imagine he'll be wearing them!" Molly Halligan said in all seriousness, and then realized the ridiculousness of her statement and giggled.

Dottie's hands flew to her face, "Lands sake! He's already paid for them and I spent the money!"

"He should see that she still receives them." Miss Pry said quietly, she glanced momentarily at the photograph of Captain Geoffrey Bowman, in her curio cabinet and almost smiled.

All eyes turned to Miss Pry in surprise. She looked back at the church ladies and said, "There are times, when we need to be reminded, that those we love, return the affection. No matter, how far the distance that separates us, one from the other. Time and distance cannot change what's in the heart, for a loving heart will always remember, and rejoice in the memory."

 **the end** (of part one)

Part two - takes place immediately following the events in Shades of Kimbro


	7. Chapter 7

Gunsmoke fan-fiction

 **the**

 **Birthday Stockings**

 **Part II**

After Shades of Kimbro

Without Beginning - Without End

 _littlegreenlake_

7

Virgin snow cloaked mud rutted streets. No footstep or wagon wheel had sullied the chastity of winter's pure white cover. Fleecy shiftless flakes, still falling, softened the lines of the cowtown buildings, making saloons, sporting palaces, and jailhouse appear more convivial than they actually were. Matt Dillon stood at the stable door looking out, seeing not, the untouched vista in front of him, but rather, an image, a memory, of another winter dawn, when snow was fresh and the streets were quiet; scarlet caped Kitty, rushing to meet him, cheeks rosy with the cold, red lips smiling, blue eyes shinning. A reality, lost to him now. Steam from each shallow breath he took, wreathed his head. He swallowed hard forcing the image, like the vapors, to vanish in the air.

"You okay Marshal?" Hank asked walking up behind him.

"I'm fine." He lied, for a wounded man can bleed more than blood. He cleared his throat, "Horse earned extra oats for a day or so, can you see that he gets them?"

"Sure thing, Marshal."

He gave a nod, but didn't turn to look at the stable keeper. With straw still clinging to his clothing, he stepped into the street, his footprints in the snow, marking his solitary trail to the jailhouse.

 **XOXO**

Festus was still sleeping and Dillon took small pleasure in entering the office with enough noise to disturb his deputy's slumber. Sometimes, turnabout was fair play.

Groggy eyed, Hagen made a reach for his gun and then seeing it was Matt stopped the action. "Matthew! You shouldn't ought'er sneak up on a feller like that. You're just liable to get your head blowed off before you git a chance to say, howdy." The deputy swung his feet to the floor and reached for his work-worn boots. "You just git into town, did ya?"

Dillon dropped his bedroll and saddlebag on the floor next to the door and then beat the snow from his Stetson, before hanging it on the hat hook, "Got in last night."

"Ya did? Where'd ya bed down?"

"At the livery." He had already moved to his desk and was going through the stacks of mail waiting for him. He shuffled through the envelopes looking for her familiar handwriting, but found nothing.

He put forth an effort to make his voice sound normal. "Anything going on I should know about?"

Hagen shifted nervously, "Town's been quiet, if'n that's what you're a askin'."

"That's part of it." He ran a tongue over his lips, "I, I met Miss Hannah last night."

Festus gave him the squint eye, "Then ya know 'bout Miss Kitty?"

"All I know is she sold the Long Branch and headed to New Orleans to be with her father."

"'That there's about all there is to know. She left a letter with ol'Doc fer ya. Reckon that will tell ya everthin' ya wanna know."

His gut tightened. He turned his back to the deputy. "If that's all that's going on, why don't you take a few days off - starting now."

"Matthew …" Floor boards creaked, he heard Festus make a move toward him. "I just wish …"

Dillon summoned his grit, "You, ah, you go on now, you've earned the time off." He canted his head in Hagen's direction, "Thank you for handling things while I was gone."

Festus hesitated still, studying Dillon. He was as big a man as he'd ever been, yet with Miss Kitty gone his size seemed to shrink in comparison. "If'n that's what ya want."

Matt nodded. He stayed as he was, until he heard the door open and shut and the sound of Hagen's spurs as he hit the boardwalk. Matt sank into his chair, resting his arms on the desk. Scenes of their years together played in his mind; memories with a will of their own. He couldn't have stopped them, had he tried. She'd been ever steadfast, the one thing in his life he could count on. He needed her, hadn't he told her that? Yet, he knew too, what staying had cost her these last few years. He got up and shrugged off his coat, kicked off his boots and laid down on the cot. He fell into a restless sleep that offered no relief from heartache.

While he slept, Festus returned and left again. In his wake, a fresh pot of coffee was brewing on the stove. A plate and knife, a paper sack of hard rolls and a tub of butter, rested on the work table. More from habit than need, Dillon drank the coffee and ate a roll. He felt some better after that. He didn't want to face a town filled with questions on their faces, or worse still, pity. However, he knew, the sooner he did, the better chance he had of moving past this, of achieving some standard of normalcy in his life again. He grabbed clean clothes from the small chest of drawers, he used as a dresser, and headed over to the barber.

A hot bath, a shave and haircut made him feel almost human again. He dodged Molly Halligan and Irene Lathrop on his walk back to the office, not giving the ladies an opportunity to say more than, "Glad to see you back in Dodge, Marshal." He tipped his hat in response, as he walked swiftly past them.

Doc was sitting behind his desk, waiting for him when he got back to the jailhouse. "You look a sight better than I thought you might. Things go alright for you down on the border?"

"Got the job done." He flexed his jaw slightly. The only evidence of grief, was in his eyes.

Adams took a breath, "I saw Festus this morning. I talked with Hank and Miss Hannah too, they all told me you were back in town."

He wasn't in the mood for small talk, only one thing mattered to him at that moment, "Festus said Kitty left a letter for me."

"She did, she wrote it before she left town." He undid the buttons on his overcoat and pulled out the letter and placed it on the desk top. "This wasn't easy for her."

Dillon stared down at the envelope. It was addressed simply, "Matt". He could almost hear her voice in the curves of the written word, whispering his name in that soft drawl, meant for his ears only.

His cheek twitched and he swallowed hard, "I can't even write her back, we don't where in New Orleans she is."

"I have her address." Doc revealed. "I got a letter in the mail from her yesterday."

Matt's head jerked up to look at the old man's face, "How's she doing Doc, is she okay?"

"She's doing fine."

"Why did she send you a letter and not me?"

"I think she wasn't sure you'd want to hear from her again, after reading what she wrote here."

Matt Dillon's features were at once intense and vulnerable. He leaned forward, and placed the flat of his palms on the desk, his face directly in front of Adams, "Doc. I need to know where she is … no way in hell I'm not going to be writing her back, no matter what she wrote to me."

"I brought her address." Doc answered.

Matt straightened his spine and picked up the envelope, holding it in both hands, "Did you read this?"

The old man tugged his ear, "No. I know when to keep my nose out of other people's business."

"Humpf." Dillon grunted, but not unkindly, "Since when?"

Doc grabbed the back side of a Wanted Poster and scribbled out Kitty's New Orleans address. He pushed himself to his feet and then waited a moment for his arthritic joints to settle in place, "I'll be around if you want to talk later."


	8. Chapter 8

8

Alone in his office, he picked up the letter and studied again her bold, no nonsense script, the writing slanted slightly to the left. The capital 'M' was strong; without unnecessary flourish. Still, it was distinctly feminine and true to the hand of the writer. He held the paper to his nose and inhaled the faint scent of Kitty's favorite French perfume. He paused to think. What was it called? He'd bought her some for Christmas. Mr. Lathrop ordered it special from New York, City, and the price had been dear. It came to him; and in the dank, forlorn jailhouse, he said the fancy words out loud, _Au Fil de L'Eau._

He had given her the perfume on Christmas morning, he had carefully wrapped it in brown paper and tied with a green satin ribbon. She'd removed the paper carefully as if he'd used the finest tissue paper available at the General Store. "It's perfume." He'd told her unnecessarily when the gift had been unveiled, and then he'd made an attempt to pronounce the French name. She had laughed at his attempt, and then kissed him with such ardor that the scent was permanently imprinted on his libido. Just the sweet smell brought within him an intense hunger to be with her.

Melancholy was taking hold. He needed a whiskey. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, hoping Festus had left something in the bottle. A glassful remained, although Matt didn't use one.

He waited for the heat to hit his belly, but it never did. His face set in a stoic mask of indifference, he carefully opened the envelope. A slight tremor of hand gave way his suppressed emotion. He removed the monogramed stationary and unfurled it, laying it flat on the desk in front of him, for a brief instant his eyes refused to focus. He blinked and was surprised to find moisture interfering with his vision.

He ran his tongue over his lips, set his jaw and began reading her letter.

 _My dearest Matt,_

 _This is not how I intended to say, 'good-bye.' Our years together deserve better._

 _I want you to know my leaving was not a sudden decision based on my father's health. In all honesty, I had made up my mind that I needed to leave Dodge City, shortly after you left town. I planned to go to San Francisco. You know, I always wanted to go back there. I intended to wait until you returned, and say these things to your face and not take the cowardly way out with paper and pen._

 _Before I could finalize my plans to leave for California, I received a letter from a doctor in New Orleans. He wrote to tell me my father is dying. Considering the circumstance of my relationship with Wayne Russell, this may be hard to understand but, I do feel it is my duty to be with him._

 _By the time you read this the Long Branch will belong to Hannah Cobb, whom I've known since our early days together in San Francisco. For some time, she has been after me to sell her the Long Branch. I never thought she was serious. When I decided to leave, I sent her a telegram and she was on the next train to Dodge. It all happened so quickly, I hardly had a chance to think._

 _Now, here I sit at my writing desk in the darkest hour of night. The ticket for the 10:00 A.M. train in front of me, as I try to explain in a letter what I am feeling in my heart. I know what you would say, "we've never needed words." But, I think maybe we did. If we had talked about what's important, maybe this day would be different._

 _I knew how things had to be between us. I knew your badge would always come first, before me, before us. I'd kid myself into thinking the same way. The Long Branch was my badge. I poured my soul into making it the best it could be. Sometimes, I'd think to myself, If I could make the Long Branch a success in Dodge City, I could do the same thing in a bigger town, with a bigger saloon, make more money and lead a life of luxury. It was then, I'd find that my badge wasn't really the Long Branch, it was you._

 _I am going to try to do what you've never been able to. I'm giving up my badge. There comes a time for all of us when it is the only sane thing left to do._

 _I thank you for all the good years, the good times. But, to say I wouldn't change a thing about them would be a lie._

 _A future without you in it, has always been unthinkable. But, this is on my own terms. I am the one leaving, not you leaving me, in a cobbled up wooden box, headed to Boot Hill._

 _Please remember, a part of me will always need you and want you._

 _Take care of yourself,_

 _Always and forever,_

 _Kitty_

He read it a second time and then a third until the truth of the words finally hit home. He carefully refolded the paper and slid it back in the envelope. He rose to his feet and placed the letter in the far corner of the safe, shutting the door and locking it. Steel and lock did not save him from the finality of the words she'd written and the scent of her perfume lingered on his fingertips

 **XOXO**

Matt Dillon went about his duties that day, for the most part, falling back into his regular routine. In the evening, he had supper with Doc and Newly. Both men tried to bring up the subject of Kitty Russell, but he rebuked their efforts, with a shake of his head and an abrupt change of topics.

He made his nightly rounds of the town, with a very brief visit to the Long Branch to make an apology to Miss Hannah for his unannounced visit the previous night.

"This must be hard for you." Miss Hannah said, patting his arm. She had kind eyes and despite her brusk temperament, he suspected a gentle soul.

His eyes darted to the door of Kitty's room and then back at the new owner of the Long Branch. "It's not easy, Miss Hannah. But, if it means Kitty can find some peace in her life, then it's worth it."

"You're what they call a 'good man' Matt Dillon."

"That's not all it's cracked up to be. Ma'am." He tipped his hat and left to continue his rounds. He had a nightcap at the Lady Gay, where Doc found him and kept him quiet company.

When he returned to the jailhouse he sat at his desk and stared, with pen in hand, at a blank sheet of paper. Words, never an ally, failed him and his letter to Kitty Russell went unwritten.


	9. Chapter 9

9

The sun rose; the sky blushed in return and then gradually gave way to glad hues of cornflower blue. A balmy breeze, in variance with the calendar, rustled the barren tree branches. The spring song of meadowlark and red-winged blackbird, fresh from their migratory journey, brought harmony to the morning while the rhythmic drip-plop of melting snow; falling in clumps from limb and rooftop served to remind the good citizens of Dodge City, that winter's force was on an ebb.

As for Matt Dillon, he did little more than glance at the day and date. He sat at his desk, coffee cup in one hand and pen in the other. He had reports to file on the conflict he'd just helped settle between the border towns of San Vincente, Mexico and Carlos Springs, Texas. While writing a personal letter to unload the grievances of heart and soul was a laborious task for the man, he had a keen knack for the detailed narration necessary to conform with government standards of the U.S. Marshals Service. Indeed, his reports were used as examples to those training for the office.

He was deep in thought, when the door to the jailhouse opened and in came Dottie Bender. Her plumed bonnet askew, her round cheeks flushed by hurried exertion, "Marshal!" She huffed, "Lands sake! I'm so …. glad you're back … in town!" Her girdle stays were at maximum force, impeding her ability to inhale fully. "I was nearly … going out … of my head with … worry!"

Dillon stood and took two long strides to the stout little old woman's side where he assisted her to a chair at the work table. She set her reticule down along with a brown paper package.

She was still puffing and the lawman could see a pulse throb in her temple vein. "Can I get you a glass of water, or maybe a cup of coffee." He asked.

"No, no thank … you … Marshal Dillion, just … let me sit for a …. minute to catch my … breath."

He waited over a minute before her breathing had evened out, "You sure you're okay. Maybe I should get Doc?"

"I'm fine now." She assured.

"What's this all about, Miss Dottie?" He asked.

"It's about the stockings, Marshal Dillon …"

He looked at her with complete puzzlement. He glanced down at her feet, "What about them, Ma'am?"

"Not mine! These …" She thrust the package at his belly and he continued to look confused.

She was a little bit irritated now, for she'd spent a lot of time on her fancy work and he didn't seem to have a clue. She spoke slowly, like one might to someone with a simple mind, "The stockings you had me embroider for Miss Kitty."

Then, the light dawned in his brain and he recalled his plan for a birthday surprise for Kitty Russell. "Oh, those stockings."

"Yes, those stockings. You said I was to make sure Miss Kitty got the stockings if you weren't in town for her birthday. The 20th is only three days away. I was fretting something awful wondering what to do. Harvey said, you most likely wouldn't have use for them now. But, I figured you'd want to get them to her." She sat up a little straighter and her voice took on a motherly tone, "I know, on good authority, distance doesn't change what's in the heart, but sometimes you need a reminder that those you love are still loving you back."

He winced, for her words had hit the mark.

"Aren't you going to look at them?" Mrs. Bender asked. "They're yours, bought and paid for."

Almost reluctantly, he untied the twine holding the package together, to reveal the three pairs of stockings. One pair was decorated in lovely wild flowers of red, and yellow and blue, another had a lace cut out, skillfully sewn and decorated by a zig-zag design, the third pair was embroidered in shades of red, that reminded him of the wallpaper in Kitty's suite. He held them in his hands, his calloused thumb rubbing against the fancy work. He seemed lost in thought.

"Well, what do you think?" Mrs. Bender prodded. "Will she like them?"

"They're," his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat before continuing, "real pretty."

"You are going to send them to her? Wouldn't be right not to …"

He nodded and then looked at her. "You did good Miss Dottie, maybe more than you know."

"Oh, I think I know, Matthew Dillon." She made the effort to stand up and he gave an assisting hand. She smiled her thanks, adding, "I'll tell you this, and you can bet money on it. She's thinking about you, just as hard as you're thinking about her. Give her reason to remember the good times and how much you care. That's what will bring her back home to Dodge City."


	10. Chapter 10

10

Nine days later a package was delivered to Wayne Russell's large Greek Revival home near the corner of Carondelet and Foucher Streets in New Orleans.

"Postman brought a package for you Miss Kitty." Marcella, the house maid said, as she brought the mail to Mr. Russell's bedroom. The elderly gambler, lay amidst fine linen and satin comforter on a large four poster bed. His frail frame propped up by a multitude of pillows. His daughter, the former saloon owner; dressed in a blue gaberdine gown, was seated on a tapestry covered chair to his left, reading to him passages from the Bible.

"Thank you Marcella." She took the package and gave it a little shake. "I wonder what it could be?"

"Well open it my child, perhaps it's the present I ordered for you, that didn't arrive in time for your birthday."

"Perhaps," but, she saw at once and with a start, the handwriting on the box. Her heart skipped a beat and then did double time. She felt happy and giddy and her face lit with a light that even the failing eyesight of the invalid old man could detect.

"No, it's not from you Father. It's from Dodge City. Probably something I left behind, I'll open it later. Now, let's see about getting you cleaned up before the doctor gets here." She turned to Marcella, handing over the package. "Would you mind putting this in my room?"

"I'll see to it Ma'am and then I'll come back to help you with Mr. Russell."

It was sometime later before she had the opportunity to open the package in the privacy of her room.

She sat in the chair by the window holding the box in her lap, savoring the notion it was from Matt, yet chiding herself for being so giddy at the prospect he had sent her something. It could be anything, indeed it could be something she'd given him that he felt compelled to return, considering the circumstances of her leaving. ' _But it's his hand writing, that means he got back to Dodge safe and sound_ ,' beat the niggling voice of her heart. ' _whatever it is, it's a precious gift, because he's alive to fight another day_.'

She listened to her heart and carefully tore away the brown paper to find a box. She opened the box to find a gift wrapped package inside. Certainly not something Matt Dillon had wrapped, for the tissue had no extra folds or creases in it, other than the ones needed to accomplish the task, but it was the blue satin ribbon which caught her attention. Every birthday gift he'd ever given her had been wrapped by the same color ribbon. "Matches your eyes," was what he'd always told her. Now those blue eyes filled with tears at the sight of the ribbon, for it told her in no uncertain terms that he had been the one to chose the ribbon and tie the bow and it was most certainly a gift given in true sentiment. She took a deep breath and then undid the ribbon and loosened the paper. Stockings! He'd given her stockings, the most beautiful she'd ever seen. She smiled through the mist as she recalled that morning in January when he'd discovered she wore a pair of his old wool socks to keep her feet warm, and he'd vowed to give her new ones for her birthday. As she was examining the fine workmanship on each pair a slip of paper drifted to the floor.

She bent to retrieve it. Tears were flowing freely now, though she didn't realize it until she tried to read the words he'd written.

 ** _17 February 1888_**

 _ **Kitty,**_

 _ **I had Dottie Bender stitch these up for your birthday. I wish like hell, I could give them to you in person. This will have to do for now.**_

 _ **You take care of yourself too.**_

 _ **Matt**_

Then, as a postscript, printed, not written, were the simple words, that served to erase time and miles and bring him as close as a soft sweet whisper in her ear.

 **Distance doesn't change what's in the heart.**

Her breath caught in her throat. She pressed the paper tightly to her bosom, crossing both hands over it, embracing the tender meaning of his words. For that moment, distance held no barrier and only love, replete and true filled her heart.

the end


End file.
